


If You're Homesick, Give Me Your Hand & I'll Hold It

by teenuviel1227



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Drunk Kissing, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, there's some sexual stuff but it's not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 03:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15110717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenuviel1227/pseuds/teenuviel1227
Summary: The one where Sungjin and Wonpil are roommates and workmates who’ve known each other since college and one night, they have a tad too much to drink and end up kissing--and things go on from there.





	If You're Homesick, Give Me Your Hand & I'll Hold It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eloveated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloveated/gifts).



> This was based off of a prompt sent to me on Curious Cat and so I dedicate this to the person who sent it in as well as eloveated who commented on my last SungPil fic that this ship was their favorite. :) I hope you guys enjoy this!
> 
> The prompt: https://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227/post/547104622
> 
> Title is from People Help The People by Birdy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OmLNs6zQIHo
> 
> CC/Twt: @teenuviel1227

Maybe one beer less or a shot of Soju before and Sungjin would’ve been quick enough to catch himself--after all, he’d been doing it for the past seven years: thwarting all of Wonpil’s attempts at cuddling him, touching him, babying him. But it was one of those nights when work was stressful and they’d decided to buy a bottle of Soju each and then split that last beer between the two of them against their better judgement and Wonpil had put a jazz piano record on in the background and it was raining outside and they’d forgotten to put the heat on and both of them were too inebriated to get up and turn it on so he’d let Wonpil rest his head on his shoulder, hadn’t flinched, had in fact reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair back behind his ear, had snuggled closer so that Wonpil’s cheek was snug against him, the top of his head flush with the crook of Sungjin’s neck.

And Wonpil, because he’s Wonpil, because he seems, to Sungjin’s mind, created especially to destroy him and all his defenses, snuggles closer, loops his arm through the crook of Sungjin’s.

“Ahhhh,” Wonpil says, grinning, eyes half-shut. “I knew there was a cuddler in there somewhere.”

Sungjin smirks, trying his best to hold back a smile despite quite enjoying the warmth of Wonpil against him--and if he’s honest, really liking the way that Wonpil smells like peaches and vanilla, the way that his hair is soft against his cheek, the way that his hand is hovering right over his, fingertips brushing against his palm.

“Don’t get used to it.” Sungjin reaches his free hand up to flick Wonpil’s forehead.

Wonpil laughs, rubs the spot on his forehead where Sungjin’s forefinger had landed--Sungjin knows that mischievious smile by heart, doesn’t need to peek to know that it lights up his face the way the sunrise can light up the horizon: crinkle at the corner of his eye, wide mouth upturned in a quiet kind of glee, slightly higher on the left but perfect in its own way.

“I’m going to tell everyone.”

“I’ll kill you.”

There’s a moment of silence in which Wonpil inches his feet (his socks are strawberry-patterned) closer to Sungjin’s (his socks have cartoon bears on them), flicking his baby toe against Sungjin’s--just to see, Sungjin knows, if he’ll let him, if he can get away with it. Sungjin sighs, too tired to move his feet away, all of the years of pushing his feelings for Wonpil down getting the better of him for once. _They’re just feet. No one is going to think you like them over feet._ And anyway, if he’s being honest, he thinks their feet look kind of cute like that--not that he would ever admit that, especially not to Wonpil, especially not without the power of alcohol.

“Seriously though,” Wonpil says quietly. “This is what I miss the most about being home. My mom’s hugs.”

It’s Sungjin’s turn to laugh--a full, long laugh, his entire body trembling with it.

“This isn’t a hug,” Sungjin says. “And I can’t believe you just compared me to your mother.”

“Well, what would you call this, then? And that’s not what I meant,” Wonpil says, tugging on the sleeve of Sungjin’s sweater. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yah,” Sungjin says, eyes opening wide, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “What do you mean I know that’s not what you meant? How am I supposed to know what goes on in that head of yours? And a hug is frontal, both arms.”

“See, _this_ is why.” Wonpil sighs, rolls his eyes and sits up to face him. Sungjin thinks it’s unfair that Wonpil looks so good even with his hair tousled like that, even with cheeks flushed from the alcohol, even with the collar of his work shirt mussed from their long commute home from the firm.

“Why what?” Sungjin asks, forcing himself to sit up and giving himself a headache.

The room spins a little.

“Why sometimes I think about just moving home,” Wonpil says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because living in this city is like poison. Is it really worth it? Everything’s so expensive and work is stressful and I live with a sociopath. Back home, everyone talks about Seoul, Seoul, Seoul--but no one talks about how hard it is to make rent and how people can be so mean. You know that Mr. Lee took a cut off of my report again today and turned it in as his--”

“--you have to tell him off,” Sungjin says, his tone curt, feeling upset now at the mention of Wonpil possibly leaving Seoul, at the thought of living here without him. He doesn’t have anyone else here--has been slumming it in the city with Wonpil since they were in University and he doesn’t want that to change now. “And you talk about where you live like it’s so far. You’re from _Incheon_. Try coming all the way from Busan.”

“It’s not worth it. If I tell him off, he just tells everyone that I’m being nitpicky again.” Wonpil says, frowning.

Sungjin shrugs. “Being nitpicky isn’t a bad thing.”

Wonpil smiles a small smile. “Of course you would say that. You nag like the devil.”

“If I didn’t, we’d never get anything done.”

“See, you _are_ like my mom.”

“Who’s impossible now, huh?”

“And I’m not like you,” Wonpil says softly, picking at a bit of loose thread on his sock.

“Obviously.” Sungjin says.

When Wonpil looks up at him, his jaw is set, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Hey,” Sungjin says, reaching over to tug at the hem of his sleeve. “I was just--”

“--you’re dead inside so no matter what happens, you just plow through it. Like a steamroller in the snow.” Wonpil shrugs. “You just want your room to be clean and crumb-free and go to work and get good ratings and get paid, eat on weekends. You don’t care about feeling fulfilled or even dating anyone so things are fine for you but those things are important to _me_. Incheon isn’t that far away but it feels like the Antarctic for me.”

Sungjin sighs, hates when Wonpil gets self-deprecating _and_ defensive, sad _and_ competitive.

Out of impulse, of frustration, Sungjin finds himself pulling him in by the wrist and Wonpil, caught off guard, lurches forward, falling into Sungjin’s arms. Sungjin grins at the small squeak of surprise that Wonpil makes as he tucks his chin over Wonpil’s shoulder, hugs him tight and pats his back.

“Look. You’re--just--don’t go.” Sungjin slows down, lets his palms roam the breadth of Wonpil’s back. He feels warmth spread throughout him, feels his heart lurch in his chest as Wonpil sinks into the hug. “You’re doing well. You’re trying your best. Don’t leave me in this place alone.”

When they pull away, Wonpil is looking at him in a way that Sungjin both loves and hates--eyes wide in shock, lower lip pressed into a thin line, a glimmer of curiosity in his deep brown eyes. His cheeks are redder than they were a moment before. Both of them are speechless for once. And maybe it’s the alcohol or the adrenaline or the fact that their knees are touching and Sungjin realizes that if Wonpil were to stumble, were to lose his balance just the tiniest bit, their lips would brush against each other--but what he does next, neither of them expect.

Sungjin reaches out to press a hand to Wonpil’s cheek before leaning in slowly, tentatively until the tips of their noses touch. Wonpil doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move away, instead nudges his nose against Sungjin’s, leans in until their lips touch, until their eyes flutter shut, until they’re kissing soft and slow--Sungjin sighs into the kiss, finds himself pushing Wonpil back against the foot of the bed, moving his hand to the back of Wonpil’s neck to keep him from hitting the edge of the bed frame. Wonpil tugs him in by the collar of his shirt, softly nipping at his bottom lip, asking for entrance before Sungjin parts his lips and lets him in, tongue meeting tongue in a kiss that’s both tender and passionate, torrid and tentative.

By the time they pull away, both of them are out of breath.

“Wow,” Wonpil says, blinking again and again and again, waiting for words that he can’t seem to find. “Ah--I--uh--”

“--we should sleep,” Sungjin says, getting up and climbing into his bed, not caring for once if the beer bottles are littered on the floor or if they’ve taken out the garbage bag with the emptied out wrappers from all the snacks they ate or if he’s washed his face properly or if Wonpil’s forgotten to turn the mosquito killing light on. He pulls the covers up over his head, turning his back to Wonpil’s side of the room, trying to ignore the sound of Wonpil’s small movements as he turns out the lights, gets into bed himself. He feels his cheeks burning, feels his heart pounding.

_I kissed him. Holy fuck. I actually kissed him. What the fuck._

“Goodnight,” Wonpil says in the darkness.

Sungjin smiles, trying to calm himself down, unsure how to feel, unsure what to do--only knowing that he hopes like hell he’ll be the only one who remembers this tomorrow.

“Go to sleep.”

  


The next day, neither of them say anything--by the time that Wonpil wakes up, Sungjin is already dressed and ready to go in his polo and sweater, gray slacks, pizza-patterned socks, is already making himself coffee in the kitchen and pouring it from the pot and into his thermos. Wonpil looks around, his head still pounding from the alcohol, from not being able to sleep immediately, but being ushered into the darkness by Sungjin’s sudden proclamation of needing to sleep. The debris from last night has been cleaned up: there are no bottles, no potato chip wrappers or candy bar peelings littering the living room, not a trace of evidence of the heavy drinking they’d done before.

If he didn’t know better, if it hadn’t been so out of character for Sungjin, if the kiss hadn’t been so good, Wonpil might wonder if he’d dreamt the whole thing up--but the kiss was excellent, was top tier, was one of the best he’s ever had and so he knows it happened. Because a kiss like _that_ with someone like Park Sungjin, not even someone with Kim Wonpil’s architectural skill and imagination could dream up something as inventive as that.

“Are you going to work or should I tell Mr. Lee you’re sick?”

Wonpil frowns, pushes the covers off of himself. “I’m going, I’m going.”

“Hurry up,” Sungjin says, glancing at his watch. “You have twenty-five minutes.”

“You mean I have twenty-five minutes until we’re at work forty minutes early,” Wonpil says, slightly annoyed as he fixes his bed, pulls his towel off of the back of one of the kitchen chairs and heads for the bathroom. He sighs, wondering what to do, wondering whether this pretending not to say anything thing is what Sungjin plans to do--and most of all, wondering how on Earth to get to kiss Park Sungjin again. “You can go ahead if you want. My head feels like a train ran over it if I walk too fast I might slip and hit my head on a tile and die.”

Wonpil pushes the bathroom door open, turns on the light--and just as he’s about to close the door behind him, he hears Sungjin put his thermos down, ease himself into a chair. His heart skips a beat. _Sungjin never goes off schedule for anything._ He glances at Sungjin. He’s pouring coffee from his thermos into the lid. He’s pulling the day’s newspaper out of his bag, is spreading it open to the front page.

Wonpil opens his mouth to say something but again, words come up short.

Sungjin looks up at him, meets his gaze and nods toward the bathroom.

“I’ll wait.’

  


From the moment that Wonpil first laid eyes on Sungjin, he knew that college was going to be fun. Not just because Sungjin was gorgeous with those deep-set almond eyes and shoulders that could sink the Titanic, not just because everyone in the Engineering Department voted him Freshman Heartthrob and everyone in the Architectural Department was crossing their fingers that he’d shift, but because Sungjin had a lot of stuffed toys that he arranged from largest to smallest on his small single bed in their dorm room in front of which he’d put a small, cardboard label that read _do not touch_ and if there’s anything that Kim Wonpil loves, it’s a plushie and a challenge.

Of course, back then, he hadn’t known that if he so much as tried to touch one of Sungjin’s plushies, he would get a scolding longer than some of his classes--but when _that_ happened the first time, Wonpil still found himself fond of Sungjin because knew that he’d met his match: no one knows how to shower people with affection like Kim Wonpil and no one knows how to dodge it like Park Sungjin.

Touche, checkmate.

It’s just the way that Wonpil knows how to make friends, knows how to show that he cares--it’s the same way that his parents, his older sister had shown _him_ that they cared when he was growing up: doting on him, babying him. His bestfriend, Jae, now an architect for one of their rival firms, was Wonpil’s first victim. Initially the stand-offish, cool kid from Los Angeles who everyone was intimidated by, by the time Sophomore year rolled around ended up becoming a puddle of soft laughter and was hanging off of everyone all the time, showering them in compliments and giving them life advice. _My apprentice,_ Wonpil liked to call him--and not even Jae could protest because it was true. That softness, that warmth eventually caught onto everyone like wildfire: Jae’s long-term boyfriend, Brian, had been a rebellious, punk-emo kid in Fine Arts who everyone thought looked like butter wouldn’t melt but ended up becoming a cuddly, smiling kitten under the influence of Kim Wonpil. And then there was Yoon Dowoon, in Engineering with Sungjin, who barely needed any cracking because _he_ was the one who’d brought up the Wonpil Theorem: hangout with Kim Wonpil long enough and you eventually grew affection like an extra limb.

But Sungjin--well, Sungjin kept (keeps) Wonpil on his toes. He was avoidant but never mean, loved to tease but hardly ever went too far, loved to lecture but was never one to hit where it hurts--and, the thing that kept Wonpil going, was that Sungjin liked to hit him with curveballs of affection when Wonpil least expected it. Throughout college, their friend group had a running joke that Sungjin and Wonpil survived on the currency of electric hatred, and in a way, Wonpil had always taken that joke at face value, had always agreed with the premise that if he and Sungjin hadn’t been thrown together by the academic housing system, they would never have hung out. And then their third year of college came around and Wonpil’s grades in one of his minor but core subjects faltered--his scholarship bumped him off from 75% with housing to 50% without housing and he’d had to move out if he couldn’t put down the deposit on the housing fee. He’d been worried to death, ready to ask Jae and Brian or even Dowoon (who lived with his sister off-campus) if he could crash while he looked for a part-time job from which he could scrounge up money to afford another place to live--and then, on the day before term break ended, he’d woken up to Sungjin sitting on the foot of his bed with a brown envelope.

“It’s just a small studio but it should be good for both of us. There’s a cafe downstairs and they’re looking for someone to hire. I already put down the deposit, you can just pay me back after your first paycheck. Make sure to read it before you sign so that if there’s something wrong with it, I can call them to check it out.”

Wonpil felt like crying then, felt like hugging Sungjin and smothering him _thank yous_ but he knew that wasn’t what Sungjin would appreciate, wasn’t the way that he would accept gratitude. So instead, Wonpil had said thank you and had spent the day sewing little jackets for all of Sungjin’s plushies--the dimensions of which he’d looked up online--and then packaging them into tiny little hand-folded origami shopping bags which he then arranged on Sungjin’s bed with a small note that read: _Pirrie took us shopping!_

And Sungjin hadn’t mentioned it, hadn’t so much as said thank you, but when Wonpil woke up the next day, all of the plushies were wearing the jackets that he’d sewn and he knew that the gesture was appreciated. The same thing happened upon graduation, their applying to the same firm and moving in together just something that _happened_ because Sungjin took it upon himself to see to them both, to take care of them both.

In Wonpil’s mind, even if people called his warmth contagious, what they didn’t give enough credit to was what he liked to call the Sungjin Effect--the premise of which is simple but true: to know Park Sungjin is to love him. And Kim Wonpil’s known him a long time.

 

 

“You okay?” Wonpil jolts out of the trance he’s fallen into as Jinyoung, one of his co-workers puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Wonpil says, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

Jinyoung grins, reaches over to point at a particular point on Wonpil’s screen.

“You’ve been colouring in the same lamp for the past hour and a half. Mr. Lee wants us all to present these in his office in half an hour.”

Wonpil shakes his head, trying to push all thoughts of Sungjin and the night before, Sungjin and this morning out of his head.

“Right. Sorry. I had a late night.” Wonpil takes a deep breath, zooms the picture out, starts filling in the east wall of the mock-up they’re working on. “I’m Kim Wonpil. I’ll get this done.”

  


By the time that work lets out, Sungjin is having a full-on panic attack. He stands in the building lobby, staring at his phone like it holds all of the answers to the universe. As far back as he remembers, he and Wonpil have gone home together--they know the routine like clockwork, have never had to think about it before, moreso talk about it: walk to the subway exit, take the subway four stops, get off, pick up dinner at one of the eateries, maybe grab some beers, walk home.

But after last night, after the kiss, after the burning in his bones for _more_ of that kiss, more of Wonpil that he just can’t seem to quell despite finishing everything on his To Do list for the entire day and then piling even _more_ stuff to accomplish on there, Sungjin finds himself lost. Was waiting for him this morning laying it on too thick? Had Wonpil forgotten? Does he wait? Would that be misconstrued as something after last night? But what if it was something? And if he doesn’t wait for Wonpil--well, would _that_ be misconstrued as something after last night? Which, well, it would be, because he’d only be _not_ waiting on account of not wanting to seem like he felt as though he _should_ wait.

“Come on,” a soft voice says, tapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

Sungjin almost jumps out of his skin as he comes face-to-face with Wonpil--gorgeous, as usual, the sunlight from the glass walls coming in and turning his dark hair a shade of golden brown.

Wonpil grins as he scans the expression on Sungjin’s face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or did you just not accomplish everything on your To Do list for today?”

Sungjin rolls his eyes, nudging Wonpil’s shoulder as he walks past.

“Come on.”

  


The commute home is quiet but pleasant enough, both of them complaining about work, both of them talking about mundane things--Wonpil’s annoying supervisor, Sungjin’s unsatisfactory experience at the new Kimbap place that just opened up in the building cafeteria, Wonpil’s presentation for the new condominiums, Sungjin’s news about Brian and Jae and Dowoon wanting to hang out with them over the weekend. They pass by the chicken place to get some fried chicken and rice for dinner, make their way up and out of the subway, heading for home. And for a moment, Sungjin is relieved, thinks that maybe everything is going back to normal. For a moment, Wonpil is afraid that things are going to go on the way that they had been, that he wouldn’t be able to kiss Sungjin again ever--and then they pass the 7/11 near their apartment complex and the poster catches Wonpil’s eye: Hite beer, held up by the endorser like the Holy Grail.

Wonpil pulls on Sungjin’s sleeve.

Sungjin flinches. “What?”

Wonpil nods at the 7/11, avoids Sungjin’s eye as he answers his question with a question.

“Do we get beer for dinner tonight?”

Sungjin licks his lips. A blush settles over his cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s a good idea.”

“Okay,” Wonpil says quickly, pushing past Sungjin and heading into the convenience store.

  


It’s a lot of beer but not as much as the night before. This time, neither of them waste time meandering, this time, the alcohol is excuse enough--this time, it’s Wonpil that walks toward Sungjin, who’s sitting on his bed, leans down and kisses him square on the mouth. This time, the kiss is clear and not muddled by shock or surprise: all teeth and tongue, all hands fumbling for buttons and buckles and zippers, for places to pull and push, undo where there is clothing to be undone. Before they know it they’re lying back on Sungjin’s bed, Wonpil lying on top of him, a thigh slipped between his legs, both of them feeling the other’s desire rising to the occasion as they kiss each other deep, as their hips start to buck against each other, searching for friction.

“Pil--” Sungjin is the first to stop, the first to speak up.

Wonpil blinks down at him, heart pounding, wondering if he’s overstepped his bounds, wondering if he’s done anything wrong.

“--yeah?”

“I--do you think we could take it slow?” Sungjin grins, sitting up, planting a soft kiss on Wonpil’s lips. “I mean--don’t get me wrong. I think. I mean. I think it’s great. And eventually. But--I don’t want to rush--”

“--ah,” Wonpil says, nodding, sitting up and climbing off of Sungjin. He grins, brushing his hair back. “Yeah. I understand. I guess we should sleep--”

“--hey.” Sungjin tugs on the sleeve of Wonpil’s unbuttoned polo. “I mean. I thought--I mean I was wondering if--”

“--if?” Wonpil asks, sitting on the edge of Sungjin’s bed.

Sungjin takes a deep breath, feels his cheeks start to get hot again just as his pulse is starting to calm down.

“If we could cuddle for a while. Or maybe you could sleep in my bed.”

“Oh,” Wonpil says, his cheeks flushing crimson. “Yeah. Yeah okay. We could freshen up and actually clean up after ourselves and throw the garbage away and brush our teeth and stuff--”

“--hah,” Sungjin says, swatting Wonpil with a pillow. “ _You_ reminding _me_ to clean up. That’s a first.”

Wonpil grins. “There’s a first time for everything.”

That night, after they throw out the garbage and take showers, brush their teeth, get into their pajamas, Wonpil turns out the light and climbs into Sungjin’s bed, both of them smiling as Sungjin puts an arm around his waist, holding him close. He presses his forehead to Sungjin’s, kissing him softly.

“Goodnight.”

A slight movement, the shift of the duvet over his shoulders.

“Goodnight.”

  


The rest of the next few weeks goes by in the same way--the mornings, the work days passing by without them talking about it until they head home at night and end up making out, stopping short of anything too frisky, going to bed in each other’s arms. Over time, the beers start to lessen, the pre-tense of drinking soon given up on entirely, both of them realizing that this could be something, that what started as a move to thwart a drunken argument might have been a simple symptom of something already building up, already bubbling up under the surface. But both of them are scared to talk about it.

Wonpil, realizing just how entwined their lives are, terrified that he’s going to drive Sungjin away--this time, not just in a funny, pretend-hate way but in a real, move-out-leave-forever way, and Sungjin scared that he’s going to come on too strong, that he’s going to snuff out Wonpil’s gentle, caring nature with his own craving for control, his want for structure.

And so, they take it for what it is.

And so, they let love be--albeit unspoken.

  


When Wonpil tells Jae about it, Jae almost spits his beer in Wonpil’s face.

“Sungjin?” Jae repeats, not quite sure whether to laugh or be terrified. “Wait. You’ve been doing the nasty with _Bob_? Like. Our Bob? Bob the Builder Bob?”

“No,” Wonpil says carefully, taking a careful sip from his shot glass of Soju. “I have been _making out_ with Bob our Bob Bob the Builder Bob.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jae says. “Sorry, God. I’m just so shocked. Holy crap. I didn’t even know--I mean I  guess love-hate is a thing. But there’s like, me and Brian love-hate which was dying of attraction love-hate and then there was actual hate which is sort of what I always thought was going on there.

Wonpil grins. “You know what? Me too.”

“Hrrrrrm,” Jae says carefully. “But I mean. It was kinda weird when you guys moved off campus--”

“--mmhmmm--”

“--and then the whole working together and still living together thing--”

“--yes,” Wonpil says, nodding. He grins. “It’s perfect. I’m happy. It makes sense.”

Jae raises an eyebrow. “Have you guys talked about it though? I mean like. Is Bob Bob the Boyfriend now?”

“No!” Wonpil balls up a tissue and throws it at Jae. “I mean. No. How does stuff like that even happen?”

Jae sighs, takes a swig of his beer. “Pirrie, no offense, but you’re an idiot.”

Wonpil does a shot of Soju, chases it with his beer. “Trust me, I know.”

  


“HAH, I freaking _knew_ it!” Brian says, jumping up and down when Sungjin breaks the news to them. “I knew it! Yoon Dowoon--you owe me MONEY!”

“Thanks a lot, Kang Bra,” Sungjin says, rolling his eyes.

They’re sitting at one of the pubs in Itaewon, some sappy song playing in the background.

Dowoon frowns as he pours soju into their beers, mixes it in with a long-stemmed spoon. “I always thought that Pirrie had a crush on _me_ . But _you,_ I never would’ve predicted.”

Sungjin frowns. “Wow. That’s helpful.”

Brian bursts out laughing as he pinches Sungjin’s cheek. “You’re human. Holy shit, I need to tell Jae this. Park Sungjin--is in love with Kim Wonpil. Holy crap! If I ran a newspaper--”

“--yeah, let's be thankful you don’t,” Sungjin says, cutting Brian off and swatting away his hand. “Now be helpful and tell me what to _do._ ”

“Well,” Dowoon says carefully. “With women, you would put it in the--”

“--not that, you idiot,” Sungjin says, flicking Dowoon’s forehead. “I mean. How do I, you know-- _ask_ him.”

“Well, first, you have to make sure that he knows you like him,” Brian says carefully. “Like. _Like_ like him.”

“Ahhhh,” Sungjin says, feigning slow understanding. “Right. In case he couldn’t tell from all the dry humping.”

“EWWWWWW,” Brian says, covering his ears. “I’m scarred for life.”

Dowoon laughs, shakes his head in mockery of Brian. “Weak shit.”

Dowoon turns to Sungjin. “Look, it’s simple. Knowing Wonpil, you just need to make it special. He’s the sweetest person on Earth. It shouldn’t be hard to get across that he means something to him.”

Brian nods. “I hate to admit it, but Dowoonie’s right. Just--do for him what he’d do for you.”

Sungjin nods slowly. “I can’t sew.”

Dowoon rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

Sungjin frowns, finishes off his beer before raising his hand to order another one.

“Trust me, I know.”

  


By the time they get home, the alcohol’s worn off in the cool, crisp night air. Wonpil holds onto the brown envelope that he’s had to make a couple of detours for close to his chest--his big gesture, his Sungjin-type gift. He’s about to climb the steps out of the subway when he sees Sungjin standing at the foot of the stairs, holding a blue paper bag. Wonpil feels an involuntary smile tug at his mouth as he meets Sungjin’s gaze--sees the same smile form on Sungjin’s lips as he gets closer.

“Hey,” Wonpil says. “How was the night with the thugs?”

“You know how they are. Stupid but lovable.” Sungjin shrugs as they walk up and out of the subway station--a familiar routine, an everyday thing they’ve both come to enjoy immensely. “How was Jae?”

Wonpil shrugs. “You know. My protege. An idiot but a really good idiot.”

Sungjin laughs as they step into the elevator to their flat. “Right. So what’d you guys talk about?”

Wonpil purses his lips, wondering if this is the time to say it, wondering if he should tell the truth or stall for a bit longer. The elevator opens.

“Well,” he begins as they walk down the hallway to their door. “We talked about you, actually. If I’m being perfectly honest.”

“Ah,” Sungjin says, a small smile on his lips as he unlocks the door to their apartment. “I see. And what about me did you guys talk about?”

Wonpil feels his cheeks warm up as he closes the door behind him. Instead of answering, he hands the envelope over to Sungjin.

Sungjin tilts his head a little to the side. “What’s this?”

Wonpil scratches his head, suddenly wondering if this was the right thing to do. “Well. I didn’t really have a new place to rent or anything but I figured you’re someone who always seems to do things rather than talk about them so I had our lease here renewed for the next two years because--well, you know. I--I mean--I like you in the more-than-normal-people way and I want to live with you until then and I don’t want you to kiss anyone else other than me which probably means something like a lease would be a good metaphor except I mean it in a way that’s mushier--”

“--I’m in love with you,” Sungjin blurts out, handing Wonpil the paper bag he’s been holding since the subway station. “I didn’t sew it because I don’t know how and you’re not a plushie but it's a jacket. And I--I wanted to show you how I feel the Kim Wonpil way because you deserve to be taken care of the way that you care about people and I’m sorry if I’ve been obtuse--”

Sungjin doesn’t finish the sentence because Wonpil’s thrown his arms around him, is holding him close, and Sungjin gives into the hug, brings his arms tight around Wonpil’s shoulders.

“--Pirrie,” Sungjin whispers softly, stroking Wonpil’s hair with one hand, keeping the other pressed firmly to his back. "Everything's better when I'm with you. So I wanted to ask you something."

“Mmmm?”

“Will you be my b--”

Wonpil feels tears sting his eyes.

“--yes. Now just shut up and cuddle me.”  



End file.
